Good Intentions Paving Company

Twenty miles left to the show.Hello, my old country. Hello.Stars are just beginning to appear,and I have never, in my life,before been here.

And it's my heart, not me,who cannot drive,at which conclusion you arrived,watching me sit here, bolt upright,and cry for no good reasonat the Eastering sky.

And the tilt of this strange nation,and the will to remain for the duration(waving the flag,feeling it drag).Like a bump on a bump on a log, baby;like I'm in a fistfight with the fog, baby;step, ball-change, and a-pirouette!

And I regret, I regrethow I said to you,Honey, just open your heart,when I've got troubleeven opening a honey jar.And that, right there, is where we are.

And I've been 'fessing, double-fast,addressing questions nobody asked.I'll get this joy off of my chest, at last,and I will love youtill the noise has long since passed.

And I did not mean to shout, Just drive,Just get us out, dead or alive.The road's too long to mention —Lord, it's something to see! —laid down by theGood Intentions Paving Company,all the way to the thingwe've been playing at, darling.I can see that you're wearingyour staying-hat, darling.

And for the time being, all is well.Won't you love me a spell?This is blindness, beyond all conceiving,while behind us, the road is leaving,and leaving, and falling backlike a rope gone slack.

And, I saw straightawaythat the lay was steep,but I fell for you, honey,easy as falling asleep.And that, right there,is the course I keep.

And no amount of talkingis going to soften the fall,but, like after the rain,step out of the overhang. That's all.It had a nice ring to it,when the old opry house rang,so, with a solemn auld langsyne, sealed, delivered,I sang.

And there is hesitation,and it always remains(concerning you, me,and the rest of the gang),but, in our quiet hour,I feel I see everything,and am in lovewith the hookupon which everyone hangs.

And I know you meantto show the extentto which you gave a goddang —you ranged real hot and real cold,but I'm sold,I am at home on that range.And I do hate to fold,right here, at the top of my game,when I've been tryingwith my whole heart and soulto stay right here, in the right lane.But it can make you feel over, and old(Lord, you know it's a shame),when I only want for you to pull over,and hold me,till I can't remember my own name.